The Black Lion
by Overworlder
Summary: Tywin Lannister, seeking to avoid leaving Casterly Rock to Tyrion, adopts a young Summer Islander and renames him Tyrone. This is his story about Westeros
1. Chapter 1

**The black lion: The tales of Tyrone Lannister**

SCENE 1: Casterly rock

Tyrion sat at the table, casting occasional sideways glances at his siblings. He had no idea why their father had called them together. Tywin Lannister was not known for traditional family announcements. Tyrion was about to speak and ask the twins for their take, when the Warden of the West entered the room, and all of Tyrion's thoughts turned to anticipating what his father had to say.

"Father, what is this about?" Asked Jaime. "I'm to escort Cersei to King's Landing. It's not good form to keep the king awaiting his future bride."

"This won't take long, and as it concerns the future of our very house, I suggest you listen very closely."

This got Tyrion's attention, he leaned in close to listen to his father's important announcement.

Tywin cleared his throat and continued. "As you know, with Jaime's appointment to the Kingsguard, House Lannister currently faces a crisis of succession."

"Crisis of succession? Father, I'm right here!" Tyrion said, trying to suppress his rage.

"And due to that fact, I have decided to take extreme measures in securing my heir." Tyrion was unsure as to whether Tywin was ignoring him, or had meant to acknowledge Tyrion in that last statement.

Cersei cocked her head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

For once, Tywin Lannister seemed to be on the defensive, unsure of the best course. "What I mean, is…..I've decided to adopt."

All three of Tywin's children rose up in surprise, knocking their chairs down in their haste.

"Are you mad? Westeros has no adoption laws!" Jaime cried.

"Which is precisely why, I'm able to do it. The Master of Laws has no issue with it, and the High Septon approves and recognises it, as he will anything when sufficiently bribed."

Cersei, not unlike her brothers, was trying to make sense of the incredible declaration. "So, you found a bastard boy, and named him your heir?"

"No bastard will ever hold the Rock! We are not in a need _that_ dire!"

"So you convinced some noble house to give you one of their children? I didn't think we were that rich." Tyrion japed.

If Tywin was irked by his sons jest, his face did not betray it. "No. I was forced to look for an heir, elsewhere."

Trying to think through his bewilderment and the five glasses of wine he had since breakfast, Tyrion began to piece his father's narration together. Elsewhere from Westeros. Across the Narrow Sea. Unwanted children.

"Oh gods. Did you buy a slave?"

Tywin opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped to reconsider. If Tyrion had not been in pure schok, he would have enjoyed the sight of his father in such a sheepish position. Eventually, Tywin recomposed himself, and began to speak.

"Not exactly, you see…."

An unfamiliar voice echoed through the hall adjoining the dining hall. "DADDY-O!" It rang out, seeming to injure Tywin with it's very loudness. The owner for the voice soon rounded the corner and entered the room. Tyrion's jaw nearly dropped at the sight of the stranger.

He was a young, ebon-skinned Summer Islander, with matted black hair down to his shoulders. His features were wide and expressive, and he stood a head taller next to Tywin. His long limbs and narrow frame made him look far more frail then his exposed biceps suggested he was. He was clad in a black jerkin, not unlike the ones Lord Tywin was fond of wearing. In fact, on closer inspection, Tyrion was sure he had seen his father dressed in the same garment on multiple occasions.

 _Did he go through Father's wardrobe?_ Tyrion thought. Tyrion mused at the idea that Tywin loved this Summer Islands youth enough to clothe him from his own supply, but then dismissed the idea when he noticed the mortified look on Tywin's face.

"Everyone, meet your new brother. I couldn't remember his birth name, so I have renamed him Tyrone." Tywin spoke, as if realizing for the first time the extent of what he had done. "I've named him my heir over Tyrion, in an effort to preserve the honor of our house."

Tyrion would have been angered at that comment, but his mind was still attempting to make what Tywin was saying seem believable. He glanced at his siblings, and from their faces he concluded that they, like him, were too stunned to speak.

"Yo, I don't think they get what's happening here. Let me introduce myself, Pop."

Tyrone began making strange noses into his cupped hands. Strange as it was, it was clearly intended to be musical, with a rough melody being formed after a few bars. Afterwards, Tyrone abandoned his noisemaking, and began to recite what Tyrion could only describe has a very hastily composed sonnet.

" _Now this is a story all about how_

 _My life got flipped turned upside down_

 _Now I'd like to take a moment so we can talk_

 _About how I became the prince of Casterly Rock._

 _On the west Summer Islands, born in raised_

 _On Jhala is where I spent most of my days_

 _Chilling at the temple, shooting my bow_

 _Riding my boat out to Walano_

 _When a rich ass lord, came to my abode_

 _Said he was the richest man in Westeros_

 _He took one look at me and said "yeah you'll do_

 _You're going to be my heir and a rich ass lord too"._

 _I whistled for a boat and when in came 'round_

 _The deck was rotten and there was kelp on the prow_

 _If anything I could say this craft did suck_

 _But I thought, naw forget it_

 _To Casterly Rock!_

 _I pulled up to the castle by some choppy water_

 _And I said to captain, "Yo, I fucked your daughter!_

 _Looked at my kingdom, from down on the dock_

 _And that's how became the Prince of Casterly Rock._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Red Keep**

Tyrion poured a glass of wine as he awaited the arrival of his new stepbrother. Tyrone's convenient disappearance at the inn when Tyrion was taken by Catelyn Tully had turned into a blessing in disguise. Tyrion had managed to not only make it out with his head on his shoulders, but he had somehow managed to arrive at King's landing before Tyrone, allowing him to take the position of Hand of the King that Tyrone was considering. When Tyrone finally arrived after making his way back to Westerlands and being escorted to the capital by some of Lord Leffords' men a few weeks later, he had been easily satisfied with the title "Master of Ceremonies", which he seemingly invented on the spot, and seemed to involve coordinating the music around the castle.

Tyrion sat down, has he contemplated what he hoped would come out of this meeting with the young Summer islander. Since his arrival at Casterly Rock, the new heir apparent had garnered a reputation around Lannisport for whoring, thieving, and threatening any who vexed him with his goldenwood bow. In the hands of a skilled archer, the bows of goldenwood could pierce through armor. In Tyrone's powerful arms, the arrow could fly straight through a man, and embed itself in whatever was behind him. Many had taken to calling Tyrone the Black Lion, but never to his face.

 _Well, Father. It seems your attempt to slight me is costing more than even you can afford._ Tyrion wondered which of his misfit sons Tywin Lannister would rather have an heir now. A hot-tempered whoremonger with little regard for the laws of the realm, or a dwarf, who also just happened to have a penchant for whoring. Tyrion then considered his own opinion of Tyrone, and figured the man was either an utter buffoon, or was pulling off a mummer's farce worthy of all the playhouses in the Free Cities.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of Tyrone, and Tyrion opened the door. Tyrone stood at the entrance, looking comfortable as ever. Though the red of House Lannister was not to Tyrone's taste, he seemed to have little issue with the gold, as his black jerkin was almost entirely engulfed in bits of gold. Against his ebony skin, the man appeared has if the night sky had taken the form of a gangly youth with dreadlocks. The young man extended his fist, which Tyrion has since learned to be a form of greeting amongst the youth of the Summer Islands. Tyrion got on his tippy toes to return the gesture.

"Damn! What's up, my brother?"

"Have a seat Tyrone. I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

As Tyrone walked over to the other chair, Tyrion planned his next statement. He had already bait the trap with Pycelle, Littlefinger and The Spider, but now he had to see if he could count on his step brother to not sell him out.

"So Tyrone, I have a plan to send Princess Myrcella the….." Tyrion stopped as he considered his plan, and whether or not it was necessary. Just because Tyrone was brought to Westeros as an intended obstacle to him, the Black Lion didn't seem to bear him any ill will, which was rare in his own family.

Tyrone had apparently noticed Tyrion's hesitation. "Yo, Tyrion? What's the deal."

Tyrion took a deep sigh and decided to tell the truth. "Tyrone, if you had to choose between being on my side, or being on Cersei's, which side would you choose?"

Tyrone snorted. "Your side, my nigga! Always!

Tyrion raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. Like we say back in the Isles, bros before hoes!"

"I take it by bros you mean brothers?"

"Dang right! I got your back, homie! Plus, don't tell her I said this, but if I'm keeping it 100, her little kids really freak me out"

"But Cersei is Queen Regent. She could make things very difficult for you."

"Man, I don't get Westeros. Y'all got a king, a Queen regent, and a hand of the king? Who's in charge?"

"Well, that really depends on the situation."

"All I know is, on the Isles, the prince is always in charge. That shit works fine for us." Tyrone leaned in after this statement. "By the way, can I ask you something?"

 _Here it comes. This is the part where he tries to feel me out._ Tyrion thought to himself. "What would you ask, my lord?"

"I hear talk Cersei is into brothers. Think I got a chance with her?"

Tyrion had been wary of the man when he entered the room. Now he was utterly perplexed. "What?"

"I mean, I know it's a little weird, us being kind of related, but something tells me she's never gotten with a Summer Islander before. Thinking I need to show her how we pray, know what I'm saying?"

Tyrion got a hold of his bewilderment, and then decided how to proceed. "Honestly, Tyrone, I think the fact that you're her brother is more of an asset to you in that regard then you think."

"EW! I forgot you Westerosi are into that sort thing! I'm out! Don't want to raise no kids who're their own cousins! Anyway, I got to work on my next ballad for Joffrey's coronation. See you later, Big T!"

Tyrone got up to leave, and Tyrion felt relieved he would no longer be expected to know any of the slang terms his adopted brother was fond of using. Before the Black Lion could exit the room, he abruptly paused and turned to face Tyrion again.

"Yo man, just one more thing?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"You told me that Jaime was one of the sworn brothers of the Kingsguard. But I didn't see any brothers! I just saw a bunch of white dudes! What's up with that? No niggers allowed in the Kingsguard?"

Tyrion could tell that The temper that Tyrone was infamous for was boiling up, even if he had no idea why, he decided to tread carefully. "Well, there's never been a knight from the Summer Isles, so… no."

"But I heard people talking about black knights at tourneys? What was their deal?"

"They meant knights in black armor, not black skinned knights. Look, I'm going to be real with you here. What was that term you used? Keep it to 100?"

"Keep it 100."

"Yes, that. Okay, knighthood is rarely bestowed on foreigners, except when those foreign-born individuals prove to be exceptional, and also want to knights, which some do not. And of those knights, which number in the hundreds, only the seven greatest can join the Kingsguard. And that's how it works ideally, but in reality, power and prestige have a part to play in it too. This also restricts the likelihood of why the Kingsguard is mostly Westerosi, because most foreign born house don't have the pedigree required, and are not likely to be loyal to the Iron Throne. Does that make sense?"

Tyrone gave absolutely no sign of understanding. After a few beats, he finally seemed to jump back to his body. "Why we got to call it taking the black?"

"How did we get there?"

"I don't like that the term. Taking the black? What's that supposed to mean huh?"

Tyrion placed a palm on his brow, and fought the temptation to move it to his face. "They call it taking the black, because when you join the Night's Watch, you get black clothes to wear."

"So why can't the Kingsguard be black, and the Night's Watch be white?"

"Because they aren't! That's just the way things are!"

"But you told me that it's always snowing beyond the wall! Wouldn't it make sense to wear white, so they blend in?"

Tyrion opened his mouth to retort, but found he had none. "That is…..actually a fair point. I'll send word to the Lord Commanders of both the white cloaks and black cloaks, and see if they'd like to switch."

Tyrone beamed triumphantly at his success. "Alright! First year in the capital and your boy already making changes! Maybe tomorrow I can stop them riots in Flea Bottom. Talk to you later, Big T!"

As Tyrone strode out of the room with his head held higher, Tyrion finished assessing his foster brother. _He is, as far as I can tell, almost twice the fool Cersei is._ Tyrion though to himself. _But even a fool can get lucky sometimes. I will keep an eye on this "Black Lion", and see he never turns his fangs on me._


	3. Chapter 3

**The Red Keep**

Every man and woman in the capital who could claim the right to attend had gathered into the courtroom to witness Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, pass judgement upon possibly the man who was as much a threat to the peace of the city as Stannis or Robb Stark were to the Iron Throne. Tyrion, who was standing a few steps down from where his father was seated on the infamous chair, tried to contain his delight. Though he wouldn't say he bore the defendant any ill will, he would never have missed out on the chance to watch as his father was forced to confront his mistakes. Tyrone Lannister had finally pressed the limits of Tywin's patience too far, had been summoned to face justice on behalf of King Joffrey Baratheon. And all who remembered Tywin's previous run as Hand of the King.

 _Perhaps now Father, you'll see what cutting off your nose to spite your face gets you._ Tyrion mused to himself. _You thought this boy to be clay to mold into your image, but it seems he is as solid as ebony._

At that moment, Tyrone Lannister made his long awaited appearance in the courtroom, accompanied by two score of who Tyrion guessed must have been the biggest men the City Watch had in its ranks. Stripped of his bow, Tyrion wouldn't have thought the Summer Islander that much of a threat, but then he recalled that the City Watch had a great hatred for Tyrone and his constant flaunting of the laws.

But it wasn't just guardsmen who had greivances with the black youth. Many a shopkeep, innkeep and brothel owner had accused Tyrone of either stealing from them, or creating unrest at their establishments. The older smallfolk became convinced that the man held their lives in contempt, and would think nothing about killing them on a whim. In one incident, a man was found dead by a rather large arrow pinning his head to the ground, and Tyrone Lannister was said to have taken the shot from the Tower of the Hand. Of course, these were unfounded rumors, started by Tyrone himself, Tyrion had guessed.

That wasn't to say that the heir to Casterly Rock was without his supporters. Some of the smallfolk, mainly the younger ones, had sympathy for the man who was known for making trouble. Tyrion theorized they had either likened his struggle as a foriegners to theirs, or that they simply found him exotic. In fact, after the riots in Flea Bottom, the castle guards had found Tyrone at an inn, with a whore under each of his arms. Even some of the highborn lads and girls had started to adopt his manner of speech and attempt to imitate his swagger, much to the disdain of their parents.

Sweeping his gaze to his adopted brother, Tyrion could see why some would find him intriguing. The man cut an unforgettable figure, seldom scene without a black cloak or jerkin, and never scene without wearing an extravagantly long chain of gold around his neck. It was said that the heir to Casterly Rock had already used half the gold of House Lannister simply to make his jewellery. He was indeed fond of gold, wearing it around his neck, on every one of his fingers in rings and in the clips he used to make the dreadlocks in his hair. He had earned many a moniker for his appearance. The Golden Maester. Dreadmane. The Starry Night. The Terror of Lannisport. But one name amongst those was always the first and foremost in the minds of all, The Black Lion.

Tyrion looked around at the crowd assembled, and saw he was not the only one who had anticipated this day. Many in the court viewed Tyrone as a menace, a liability and a buffoon. He had earned plenty of scorn when he had been given command of the archers during the Battle of the Blackwater, but had never given the order to fire. He later claimed his inaction was due to personal dislike of the term Blackwater, but many believed he had simply had too much wine the day off and passed out in a brothel while the war was going on. Tyrion himself believed this version, has he the next time he encountered Tyrone, his stepbrother had been astounded and terrified that the bay had somehow been engulfed in green flame. The day had been won of course, by the intervention of House Tyrell, but many believed the lack of Tyrone's archers would have saved the Iron Throne a lot of forces.

Tyrone's only real political activities could be summarized in two points. First, he had gotten his wish that Kingsguard and the Night's watch would switch the colors of the cloaks. The sworn brothers, now assembled at the foot of the Iron Throne, looked even more menacing in their new black armor and ebony shields. This also gained him more dissenters amongst Westeros, as many felt the color white represented the virtue that the Kingsguard was meant to display. Second, Tyrone had given a great deal of vocal support to the petitions of Prince Jalabhar Xho of the Red Flower Vale, taking the ear of anyone in power and lending support to his countryman's plight. Of course, the prince had been begging for aid since Robert's death, and would likely go unheard, no matter who Tyrone threatened with his goldenwood bow.

Tyrion considered his own thoughts on the man. A part of him detested the outsider for having taken what was rightfully his to claim, but otherwise, he bore Tyrone no ill will. Tyrone had expressed loyalty to him, and had given Tyron much delight with his antics and the humiliation it brought to Tywin. He hoped that his father would at least consider disowning the Black Lion and exiling him to Summer Isles, where Tyrion had no doubt he would fit in better.

Tyrone now stood at the foot of the steps leading to the throne, and Tywin leaned forward in appraisal of his intended heir. Tyrion supposed it was fortunate for Tyrone that the young king had no desire to see his uncle punished. Every since Tyrone had witnessed Tyrion disciplining Joffrey with a slap, the man had now issue dispensing similar punishment, usually with the back of his hand. Though Tyrion would never argue Joffrey didn't deserve a good beating often, it was somehow hard to watch Tyrone do it.

"Tyrone of the House Lannister. You stand before the Iron Throne accused of murder of a captain of the City Watch. How do you plea?"

Tyrone straightened himself to his full impressive height. "I plea, innocent, my father."

This lead to a murmur from the crowd, who had not expected such audacity in the face of Tywin Lannister, who raid in eyebrow in his own form of surprise. "You claim you did not kill Bennjicot Waters?"

"Oh no. I definitely killed him. Put three arrows in him before he even knew what was up!" From what Tyrion heard, this was true. Mainly because Tyrone had shot his victim from behind.

"How do you justify breaking the King's peace? And murder a member of the City Watch in cold blood?"

Despite the fact the Hand of the King, the most powerful man of Westeros was bristling with rage at his words, Tyrone was either too cool or too stupid to let it effect him. "Yo, fuck the City Watch! That motherfucker got his stanky ass feet on my new kicks." Tyrone gestured to his feet, to both indicate he was talking about his shoes and that there was indeed a tiny stain on them."

Tywin seemed more confused than angered for a moment, but than recomposed himself. "You cannot slay a man simply because he damaged a slipper! Did you at least ask him to give you coin for new shoes?"

"Yeah, and he said he couldn't afford it, and told me to bugger off. In the Summer Isles, I would have killed him just for stepping on the shoes alone, but then he had to be all disrespectful and what not, so I had to end him. Which I was in my rights too. Long story short,"

Tywin's confusion had subsided, and he now confronted his adopted son with a wrath that had been the source of Tyrion's nightmares throughout his childhood. "WE ARE NOT IN THE SUMMER ISLES!" He roared, startling everyone in the front rows of the audience, but not Tyrone himself. "You have broken the laws of the Gods and men, and you have stained the honor of House Lannister! I, Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, sentence you to death by beheading!"

The crowd broke out into applause, save for the few supporters of Tyrone who turned away in remorse. The City Watch members, eager to avenge one of their own, began to advance towards the Summer Islander, when he raised his hands.

"Wait! Wait! I know my rights! I demand Trial by…."

"A trial by combat is not available for those who are not of the Faith of the Seven!"

"Wasn't going to request that! A black man can't get a fair trial by combat! I request a similar tradition from the Summer Isles! I request….TRIAL BY RAP BATTLE!"


	4. Chapter 4

**The Red Keep**

Tyrion paced the floor of his cell for what must have been the hundredth time that day. His mind struggled to put together the pieces and deduce who could have been Joffrey's true poisoner, but the fact remained there were far too many suspects; namely everyone. Tyrion's progress in the manner had be limited to deciding that at least two players where innocent of any suspicion. Cersei, for all her callousness, would never have killed her own son. And Tyrone, his other sibling, lacked the motivation and quite likely the intelligence to kill Joffrey. And even if he had, a poisoned wine chalice would have been far too subtle for the brazen heir to Casterly Rock.

 _Cersei's wanted me dead for ages. Sooner or later, Cersei gets what she wants._

Tyrion's calculations were interrupted by the sound of the cell door opening. From the sound of the chains rattling, Tyrion almost thought he would be given a cellmate. Then he turned around and saw the chains rattling had been gold, and his foster brother Tyrone was in the cell with him. Tyrion sighed through the remnants of his nose, and prepared for whatever test the gods would present him in the form of Tyrone.

"So good of you to visit me, brother."

Tyrone made use of his usual strut over to the sole seat in Tyrion's cell, a wobbly stool, and occupy it. Tyrion didn't mind it, and chose to see it as an attempt by the youth to be at eye level with him. "Yo, I just got to say, T-dot. That line you busted out in the courtroom? _I am on trial for being a dwarf?_ That was sick, man! You really preached up there brother! And I totally feel you on that! I got screwed by the system too! I've been on trial for being a Summer Islander since I came here!"

 _Being a Summer Islander is the least of things you were on trail for_ Tyrion thought to himself. He couldn't help himself from smiling a little though, when he remembered how Tyrone had convinced the court that a trial by rap battle was a form of trial where instead of mortal combat, the defendant could express his innocence through song. If his opponent could not best him in this lyrical contest, then the gods of the Summer Islands would have expressed their consent in letting the accused off free. Despite no one really understanding it, Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard had volunteered to be the one to face the Black Lion in this unorthodox trial. The result was that the knight had been so badly humiliated by the young Summer Islanders insulting verse, that he had fled the courtroom in tears, and Tyrone had declared himself the winner.

Needless to say, many had found this to be a blatant flouting of the laws, but King Joffrey had taken a perverse delight in seeing Ser Meryn "get served" as Tyrone had put it, that he dismissed all charges against his uncle. To appease the lords who had hoped so dearly for Tyrone's head to be placed on a spike, Tywin began to restrict the freedom of his heir, confining him to his chambers, and having guards follow him wherever he went.

"Thank you, Tyrone. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Yeah, brother. If they had called me to testify, I would've told them to go fuck themselves!"

"They did call you to the stand, remember? You admitted to being too drunk at wedding to even realize Joffrey was dead for a few minutes."

"Oh Yeah!. Just want you to know, when you face the Mountain, the whole crew's going to be behind you!"

"The….crew?"

"Yeah! Your posse! Me, B-ronn, the kid with the giant cock."

"What?"

"Yo, you aren't heard? Word in the brothels, is that it goes down to his kneecaps! ….Which, you know, is average in the Summer Islands. I asked him to show me his and I'd show him mine and we'd see what happens, but he done bitched out, so really, how big can it be, right?"

Tyrion winced at the disgusting imagery of his squires penis. He quickly decided to change the subject. "You know, Tyrone. I don't actually have to fight Ser Gregor myself. I'm allowed to have a champion fight in my stead if I wish."

"Oh yeah? Who'd you have in mind."

"Well, I was hoping you would volunteer." _Especially since if you did, it would be put our father in quite an awkward situation._

Tyrion's hopes were dashed when the Black Lion leapt off the stool, and started waving his hands. "Hell no! You seen that motherfucker? We got apes on the Summer Islands that don't get has big as him. Uh uh!"

Tyrion hoped that the youths ego was still several times larger then his common sense, and tried a different tactic. "Come now, you're Tyrone Lannister! The Menace of Lannisport! If you were to take up your goldenwood bow, even the Mountain that Rides would quake in his boots!"

"Sorry, T-dot. That's not happening. I've seen how that guy takes a two handed sword in one hand! I ain't messing with that!"

Tyrion hadn't held out much hope that Tyrone would champion his cause, so he simply nodded his head and turned around, to contemplate his next move. However, the Golden Maester seemed to have more thoughts on the subject.

"Hey! I just realized! I was on a boat ride earlier with someone who said he hates Tywin! Maybe I'll let him know you looking for a giant slayer?"

Tyrion shrugged. "I don't see how it could do any harm. Do as you wish. If he's willing to seriously fight for me life, I'm in no position to refuse.:

Tyrone nodded, seemingly pleased with the prospect he had actually been helpful in a small way. He headed to the cell door, but turned around before leaving.

"Hey T-dot!"

Tyrion turned to face his foster brother, and was quite surprised by what came next.

"Sorry your girl turned a dime on you man. Fuck her. If a bitch ain't loyal, you don't need her."

Tyrion felt a flicker of warmth in his heart, and felt a pang of guilt for looking down so much on a man who had never bore him any ill will. While Tyrone may not have had the intellect to be of any use to Tyrion, it felt good to know that both his brothers were supporting him this much. Especially Tyrone, who owed Tyrion nothing.

As the cell door closed, and Tyrone ascended the staircase with a raised fist, something Tyrion had been told was a way Summer Islanders showed support, Tyrion went to bars to watch him leave.

That night, the sound of voices and the clinking of the cell door woke Tyrion from his sleep. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up on his bedroll to see Oberyn Martell enter the cell. The Prince of Dorne looked at him with a bemused look in his eyes.

"Prince Oberyn. You were to be one of the judges at my trial today."

"Unfortunately, lord Tyrion, I could not attend the trial. My pleasure boat sunk in the Blackwater earlier the day, due to a certain Summer Islander who will remain nameless. But on a more important note, I hear you are looking for a champion."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Narrow Sea Tyrion was relieved to be able to come out of his hiding place and come aboard the deck. While he did acknowledge the necessity of having to hide in a barrel to avoid any suspicion at the docks, but his joints were aching like hell, and he needed to stretch them. Cramming his stunted neck up to gaze at the night sky, he shifted his gaze downward to look at the coastline of Blackwater Bay. He considered going back down below deck, least he was still at risk of discovery, but he managed to quell those fears. Tyrion's thoughts turned over to the deeds of the night, and it made him want to shake his head. He had murdered the woman he had come closest to loving since Tysha, and finally put in end to his father's disdain as well. He almost couldn't believe it. Then something happened that furthered his sense of astonishment. A loud booming voice, rang out from the other side of the vessel. "YO! T-DOT!" Before Tyrion could register his surprise, Tyrone approached him, picked up in his arms and spun around as though Tyrion was his newborn son instead of his stepbrother. "Damn, boy! I never took you for a jail breaker! You putting that dwarf body to work boy!" Tyrion managed to stop Tyrone from twirling him any further by tapping his shoulder a few times. The black youth lowered him back onto his feet, and Tyrion took a minute to regain his composure before speaking. "Tyrone, what in the seven hells are you doing here?" "Yo, it was crazy, homes! There I was in my room with some fine ass hoes from Silk Street, when that bald, dickless mofo comes out of a secret passage in the wall and tells me we need to go! I go to get my bow, because just because a guy doesn't have a cock doesn't mean he gets to watch, but then there's some banging on the door. Seems the City Watch wanted to come in, and Varys grabs me says I got to get out of there." "I wanted to take bitches with me, but they were asleep anyways. So we go through the hidden package, and The Spider tells me that Daddy-o got iced on the toilet! And the gold cloaks are trying to pin it on me! He took me to this ship, and told me there was a surprise onboard for me. I was hoping for another pair of hoes, but it's real nice to see you, brother!" Tyrion wondered how the city watch had concluded Tyrone was involved in Tywin's death so quickly. Then he remembered that the gold cloaks were vying to arrest The Black Lion ever since he was acquitted of murdering their commander. _Even the Spider needs to hedge his bets, it seems._ "So what's the play now, T-dot? Wait for the heat to die down, and then clear our names?" Tyrion wondered just how much guile would be needed in this discussion, and then decided the answer was none at all. "I'm afraid that won't be easy. I've already been tried and found guilty, and whoever framed you is likely some sort of genius." "Shit. What are we going to do then?" "Simple, brother. We're going to pledge ourselves to the cause of the Mother of Dragons. She'll dispose of Cersei, and we'll have positions of power by her side." Tyrone held up his hands in confusion. "Wait, a minute. I thought our plan was to keep the Iron Throne?" Tyrion braced himself to spend a considerable amount of time explaining the inheritance structure of Westeros to the youth. "We don't have the Iron Throne, Tyrone. Cersei does. We need to take it from her." "But why? We all Lannisters here right?" _In your case, very questionably._ Tyrion thought to himself. "Tyrone, if Cersei were an ally, she could have cleared your name with the City Watch, and wouldn't have accused me in the first place. She clearly wants us out of the way so she can have the power of Casterly Rock all to herself. We have to work together with the Targaryen girl if we ever want to return to Westeros as free men!" Seeing the confusion on Cersei's face, Tyrion decided to rephrase. "Cersei is, how did you describe it. A bitch who ain't loyal? A trifling ho? We have to go to the Mother of Dragons, because she is a loyal bitch. Does that make sense? "Not really, but I like the sound of free! But damn if this Westeros character drama shit ain't confusing as hell. All I know, on the Summer Islands, we got a Prince we obey, and that the end! So were we headed too, half-homie?" "Well, our first stop is to Pentos, where….." Tyrone held up his hands in refusal. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up! This nigger ain't going to Pentos?" Tyrion raised in eyebrow. "And why is that?" "Pentos got slaves man! I don't need some rich spice monger trying to make me his new cupholder and strapping a gold collar around my neck!" _Because it clash so badly with your other finery._ Tyrion thought, looking at the array of golden chains that glittered around his step brothers neck. "Tyrone, Pentos has been anti-slavery for years! The Braavosi imposed abolition on them after their last war." "Right, and if you believe that, I got some horse dung to sell you, brother! Ain't no way I'm going to Pentos!" Tyrion took a deep breath to prevent from striking Tyron in anger, which he knew would lead no where good. "Think about it, brother. The Spider is not such a fool as to send you somewhere you might be enslaved. We will be meeting with his contact there, who is most likely a powerful or resourceful individual who can offer you protection. Does that sound alright?" Tyrone seemed to consider this for a minute, which Tyrion guessed was a record time for contemplation for the black youth. "Ight, ight. Then what do we do.?" "Well.. then our next step is to go to Volantis…." "HELL NO!" Tyrone shouted so loud, Tyrion feared that someone back in Westeros would hear. "Are you crazy?! Volantis is like Pentos on crack! Slaves outnumber the free people five to one in that city!" Tyrion figured it should come as no surprise that the Black Lion's only area of expertise was the possibilities of himself becoming a slave. "As I mentioned before, Tyrone, there is no risk of you being forced into slave labour! Look at you! With all your gold and swagger, you're more likely to be taken for a seasoned sellsword than a slave to bought at auction." As always, flattery worked on the brash Summer Islander. Tyrion decided to finish with the itinerary as quickly as possible before Tyrone could raise any more complaints. "Then from Volantis, we will move to …. Slaver's bay." "YOU TRYING TO PUT ME IN CHAINS, BOY!" Tyrone yelled so close that Tyrion suspect his hair was being moved. "YOU JUST WANT TO SEE HOW MUCH GOLD I'M WORTH, HUH? THAT IT? I'M ON TO YOU, NIGGER!" "Actually, Slaver's Bay is a bit of misnomer at this point. You see, Daenerys Stormborn has been waging a campaign to…." Tyrion realized there was no amount of elaboration that would make a visit to the hub of the slave trade appealing to a dark-skinned man born on the Summer Isles. "Fine. When we get to Slaver's Bay, you can stay on the ship. I'll treat with the Mother of the Dragons." "Alright! See, that's what I'm talking about! You talk to the Targaryen bitch, and I'll watch the ship! Great teamwork, T-dot! Great teamwork." Tyrone then strutted off to the direction of the cabin. _You won't have to worry about enslavement, "Brother". If all goes well, you'll be dead before then. You've been an obstacle in my way for too long."_ Tyrion smirked to himself as he watched his foster brother leave. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: The Ruins of Valyria**

Tyrone's breath was ragged and rough, but he dared not slow down, least the Stone Men pursuing him would overtake him. Although his long, well built legs gave him a natural advantage in fleeing the infected madmen on foot, he had been running for quite some time, and was running out of stamina. The endless tide of foes had already taken most of the arrows in his quiver, and he was too proud of his goldenwood bow to even consider using it as a blunt object to stave off the pursuers. Against this number, the act would have been futile.

"Damn bitch ass dwarf, leaving me in a fucking in a fucking slave city." Tyrone muttered under his breath. He clenched his teeth as he tried to figure out what would've possessed his foster brother to leave him behind in Volantis. The last time he saw Tyrion, the two had decided to partake in the local brothels. After a night of drinking and wenching, Tyrone realized he couldn't find The Imp anywhere. Not wanting to spend anymore time in a city built on slave labor then he needed to, Tyrone then enlisted a ship to take him to Meereen. Once onboard, Tyrone got himself sufficiently drunk, and woke up on the shoreline, in the wreckage of his hired craft. While some of the shiphand had survived, they refused to guide Tyrone to Meereen, insisting on saying their prayers. Tyrone dismissed them as a bunch of pussies and headed off in the general direction that he believed was East.

It took only two hours for the Stone Men come after him.

Tyrone ran as fast as he could, but he was running out of land. The hoard of Stone Men had cornered him over a point. Not wanting to take anymore chances with the sea, the Black Lion considered his options. He spied a few skeletons with their weaponry still close at hands, and hoped some of them were still in good condition. He scanned the armaments, and settled on the shiniest sword in the lot. He grabbed the hilt with both hands, and began trying to free the blade from the rocks it was lodged in, painfully aware that the stone men were getting ever closer.

Just as the sword came loose, the leader of the pack took a leap at Tyrone, teeth bared and ready to rend.

The Stone man landed a few feet in front of the Summer Islander, and his head landed a few feet behind him. Even to the disease-addled minds of the Stone Men, Tyrone must have looked a fearsome figure, armed with a blade of Valyrian steel and with dreadlocks flowing in the wind. However, the Stone men soon overcame their shock and prepared to swarm him.

It didn't take long for Tyrone to realize the faultiness of his plan. He knew very little of swordplay, preferring to rely on his powerful bow in his career of debauchery and petty theft. However, he did have one move left in his play book, that he decided to use.

Taking his goldenwood bow, he fit the sword in the bowstring, and although he strained against the weight the steel, his natural aim did not fail him. The sword flew a short distance into the closest Stone Man, embedding itself up to the hilt. The victim fell to his knees, giving a less then human shriek of pain. Embolden by his success, Tyrone rushed to the body, freed the sword from the corpse, and leaped off of it into the air, beheading three more of his pursuers in the process.

"Yeah! That's right! You grey motherfucker's going to miss with this? I'm the original black knight, bitches!" Tyrone shouted this and several other boasts and taunts, as he set upon the crowd with his unique variety of clumsy swordplay and undisciplined fighting.

Eventually, the numbers of the Stone Men had been thinned enough that they decided it would be better to flee than to continue with their original goal of trying to infect the Summer Islander and flee. As the last of them ran out of sight, Tyrone gave them an obscene hand gesture, and then inspected his newly claimed sword.

Tyrone did not know much about swords, but even he was impressed by the quality of the blade. The metal had a wonderful black-red coloring, and distinctive ripple patterns that he had never seen in metal of any kind. The pommel was shaped like a lion's head, with rubies set in its' eyes and it maw open in a roar.

Tyrone looked at Brightroar, the lost ancestral sword of House Lannister, and thought to himself aloud. "Damn! I bet I could sell this for some big coinage!"

Tyrone shoved the sword into his belt, and continued to try and find his way to Slaver's Bay.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Kings Landing**

Norren readjusted trousers for the third time since leaving the tavern. The early winter chill made him regret that he had to leave his gold cloak at the barracks, it had been soiled by mud hurled at him a few days ago by an angry vagrant. Not that Norren minded too much in particular. The laundry woman would clean it for him, and it had given him an excuse to administer his favorite sort of justice; the kind that came on the end of a baton.

Ever since the Black Lion had been named a kinslayer and had fled the city with the Imp, Norren and many of his brothers in the City Watch had found the enthusiasm for their post renewed. No longer would some fortunate foreigner be allowed to run wild over the city as he saw fit. The law was back in the hands of the law, and it was time to remind the rabble of King's Landing of that fact. Tyrone Lannister had plenty of supporters left in the city, but due to the hard penalties the Iron Throne had authorised the Watch to administer, even these youthful rebels found their spirit hard to muster.

Norren would have said something witty to himself about how the fortunes in the capital always change, if his mind wasn't so addled with ales (at least that was his excuse). So deep was he in his cups, that he almost missed the turn he was meant to take to return to the barracks. Suddenly, a sparkling object caught his eye, and he bent down to pick it up. It was a ruby-laden rig, with intricate styling around the band. Norren gladly pocketed it, smiling at his good fortune. He was about to turn around and go on his way, when he noticed a silver bracelet a similar mile away, making sure there was no one around who could also lay claim to his newly found treasures, Norren proceeded to pick it up as well, then pondering how much these newly found objects would afford him.

Even sober, Norren probably wouldn't have noticed that the trail of bling was leading him into one of the darkest corners of Flea Bottom. By the time he realized how far he was gone, he had no idea how to find his way back.

Then a long, dark leg struck him in the back, sending him sprawling. He recovered and faced his attacker, and his heart nearly gave out from fear. Standing before him, wielding a Valerian steel greatsword and clad in a shabby traveling cloak, was The Black Lion himself.

"Well, well, well." The young Summer Islander said, stepping a casual circle around the terrified watchman. "If it isn't one of King's Landing's finest!"

"Mi…milord! Please don't harm me! I swear I always believed your innocence!"

"Cut the shit!" Tyrone stepped on Norren's wrist, causing him to scream in pain. "Your boy Sam Waters sold all of you motherfuckers out! Told me you're the one who replaced the crossbow bolt they found in my father with one of my goldenwood arrows."

Norren gulped. "Please, my lord! Have mercy! I was only following orders! I'll do anything you want, please!"

Tyrone gave a bloodcurdling smirk, as he drew the greatsword from his back. "You want to help me? You can spread a message."

The last words of the Black Lion would ring through Norren's head for the rest of his life, which would end in the next five seconds when the youth would drive Brightroar through his neck.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, bitch."


End file.
